


Cinnamon & Spice

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, cinnamon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: Even serious, ambitious young Aurors have to have a little fun. Modern AU.





	Cinnamon & Spice

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: cinnamon

The sky was grey and sullen as Seraphina crossed the road, threatening rain. Her coat would provide some protection, but she still glanced up apprehensively.

She made it through the doors of MACUSA without incident, enjoying the warm, dry embrace of the air inside. One of the many creature comforts that magic provided.

Having no desire to walk the twenty-something floors to the Department of Magical Security, she stepped into the lift, a mechanical thing from the early twentieth century. In reality, most of the building looking precisely as it had in the early nineteen-thirties and they were stuck with typewriters and flying memos. That was mostly because anything fancier than that got confused in here — there was too much magic flying around. Seraphina always switched her phone off well before she reached the building. 

There was a soft chime as the doors opened. A few steps delivered her to the DMLE. Predictably, Percival had beaten her to it — he was already at his desk, leafing through a copy of  _ The New York Ghost _ .

He looked up as she came in. “Morning.”

“Morning, Percival,” she replied, depositing herself onto her chair. She gestured at the paper in his hands. “Anything I should know about?”

“No. Unless you’re interested in new hair products, which is the headline news today, for some reason.”

Seraphina sighed. “At least it isn't love potions or something.”

“I guess. Wish they’d report on something more interesting, though. The  _ Ghost _ has gone downhill recently.”

“It’s since they got that new editor,” Seraphina said. “Don’t remember his name, but you know the one I’m talking about. We met him at a MACUSA event last year.”

“Oh,” said Percival, with a realisation and the memory of gelled spikes. “The guy with the crazy hair, right?”

Seraphina nodded, facial expression fully exhibiting her disdain. “That’s the one.”

“Right. Anyway, I’m going to get coffee,” Percival heaved himself out of his chair. “Want anything?”

“Yeah, I’d love some coffee. As long as it’s not the stuff out of the cafeteria, because I’d sooner die of dehydration than drink that.”

MACUSA had a staff canteen on one of the lower floors — they demanded such long hours of their staff that there was no excuse not to — but it was generally agreed that the coffee was less coffee and more bilgewater, so the cafés up and down the street outside profited well from MACUSA employees. That included Seraphina and Percival, even though they vocally disdained the chain places. When they had the time, there was an independent shop that stocked their preferred varieties, but that was a five minute walk away. Young, ambitious Aurors simply didn’t have the time for that. They resorted to the brand-that-shall-not-be-named directly across the road instead, even if it was an offence to the tastebuds.

He laughed. “Drama, much?”

“I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No, you’re not,” he admitted good-naturedly. “I’m not a fan of it either.”

He picked up his own travel cup off his desk and Seraphina rooted through her drawers to find her own, a dark shade of purple. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.

He left the room with a promise not to take to long, after which Seraphina set about preparing for her day. As always, she had a lot to do, and she found that being organised was the only way she could get through it all with her sanity intact. Tuesdays were always particularly testing.

She estimated that it would take him fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes to get there and back. In the intervening time, other people began to trickle into the room, occasionally stopping at her desk for a quick word. She flicked through the correspondence that was on her desk - all old stuff, from the night before. Nothing that needed her attention; she’d have to wait until all of MACUSA’s other gears ground into action. 

Almost disappointed, she snagged the newspaper that Percival had left on his desk and skimmed through the main articles. As he’d said, it was mostly hollow, words for the sake of words. She sighed. This was the kind of thing that made her need coffee.

Indeed, when she caught sight of a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye, she was unabashedly eager. She dropped the  _ Ghost _ on top of a pile of other newspapers that occupied on corner of her desk. Percival left her cup in front of her and returned to his desk, right next to hers.

She lifted it to her nose, encountering a scent vastly different to the one that she’d been expecting. Perplexed, she pulled the lid off.

_ Was that whipped cream? _

She looked over at Percival to find that he was already sneaking glances back at her out of the corner of his eye. “What, in the name of Isolt Sayre, is this?”

“Sorry, what?” he asked, pretending innocence.

“I asked for coffee,” Seraphina said, in a tone of disbelief. “Not diabetes in a cup.”

Percival shrugged, a grin inching its way onto his face. “Hey, it’s a cinnamon latte. It’s got coffee in it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Barely.”

“In my defence, you didn’t specify.”

“I-” Seraphina glared at him. “Percival, you're one of my closest friends, but there are times when I despise you.”

“You and I both know we’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

She couldn’t fault his logic, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Scowling theatrically, she took a sip and gave an exaggerated grimace. It was horribly high in sugar — she could imagine the sweetness congealing on her teeth — and it certainly didn’t qualify as coffee in her books. But...well, she had to admit...it wasn’t awful. In truth, she quite liked it. Part of her was horrified at herself, but for the most part the disdain was overridden by her genuine enjoyment. It sparked a kind of homely warmth inside her, the way that hot chocolate had done when she was a child. Percival was either more thoughtful that she’d previously credited him or his plan had failed pleasantly. And he was the kind of person where she really couldn’t tell which.

She took another tentative mouthful. It was definitely growing on her. There was no way that she was going to tell Percival, but she may as well appreciate what she had.

Just as she was savouring her third sip — whilst trying to look as impassive and unimpressed as possible — one of the more senior Aurors swooped in. “Ah, Seraphina,” he began, insipid and condescending. It was a concerted effort not to roll her eyes. “I need you to do something for me.”

For the rest of the week, she was occupied with things much less pleasant than peculiar coffee orders. There was one debacle and then another, mountains of paperwork, long hours, and a snappy boss. Not a fantastic combination.

Friday, midmorning, was the first time Seraphina felt like she had a moment to breathe. Her eyes prickled, her neck was cricked, and her skin was revoltingly oily. But she knew that the worst of the chaos had passed — she’d get a weekend, which she’d begun to despair over.

Percival was hunched over his desk, nose almost touching the paper he was scribbling on. Her heart twinged a little in sympathy.

She glanced at her watch and decided that she deserved a break. Utterly absorbed in his work, Percival didn’t even notice when she swiped his cup off his desk and made her way out of the room.

It was a blustery day, so she made a beeline for the café without a moment’s hesitation. On the way, she tipped the now stone-cold coffee in Percival’s cup into a nearby bin.

When she pushed the door open, she found that the place was busy and loud, the mixed cacophony of humans and machines ricocheting off the concrete walls. She hung back for a moment to scan the menu; she’d be sticking with her standard americano, but with what could she tempt Percival? Or, more importantly, what would allow her to avenge Monday morning’s insult? There were all manners of strange concoctions on offer, with names that sounded vaguely Italian but surely were not. In the end, she practically flipped a coin on it.

She queued for a short while, during which she debated the choice.  _ Don’t be ridiculou _ s, she eventually scolded herself,  _ it’s not like it’s of critical importance _ .

Though the office was distinctly unappealing, she trudged back into MACUSA, one coffee in either hand. If Percival’s startled look was anything to go by, he hadn’t even noticed she’d left until she positioned herself in front of his desk and set the cup down in front of him.

“Percival,” she prompted. “Coffee.”

“Thanks,” he said, with a look of genuine gratitude that almost made her feel guilty. “I need it.”

He didn’t even look before inhaling a large mouthful, only to come up sputtering a seconds later.

“’Phina,” he said, speech apocopated by coughs. “What?”

“What?” Seraphina replied, outwardly innocent, but inwardly delighting in her revenge. She’d freely admit that it was petty and childish, but it was also making her day. “Some Auror. That could have been poison, for all you knew.”

Somehow, through the coughing and sputtering, he raised a single eyebrow that managed to convey the depths of his disbelief. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s a pumpkin spice latte. I thought you were into that kind of thing?”

The look that he gave her was thoroughly sceptical. He couldn’t, however, contradict her without an outright lie. “Yeah, I guess,” he admitted. “Just not when I choke on — what is it? Pumpkin spice powder?”

She shrugged. “Something like that, probably.”

His eyes were still watering. “Not sure I’m appreciating it right now.”

“Well, it’s your fault. You started it,” she teased. “I’m never going to be able to trust you with a coffee order again, unless I specify to the most minute degree.”

“Looks like I can’t trust you, either,” he replied. “Next time, you’ll just have to come with me to make sure that I don’t do anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Good,” he said, with a sly glint in his eyes. “Then it’s a date.”


End file.
